


Tik Tok goes Mycroft, but the party don’t stop, no…

by havetardiswilltimetravel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetardiswilltimetravel/pseuds/havetardiswilltimetravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is a strait-laced man…but sometimes he likes to cut loose…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tik Tok goes Mycroft, but the party don’t stop, no…

There are some things that everyone knows about Mycroft Holmes. He’s a strait-laced man, dignified, precise, meticulous. He has manipulation down to a science, and it never fails on anybody, perhaps the only exception being his brother, Sherlock. He’s superb at his job, though all anyone knows about it is that he has holds in all the major points and places in Britain. There’s speculation that perhaps his reach stretches even farther than that. He’s quite fond of a simple black umbrella he’s often seen with. And he always dresses impeccably - never a hair out of place.

But you see, there are two very important things people never and will never realize about Mycroft Holmes…

It’s true that during the day, he is dignified, strait-laced, meticulous. He’s never seen out of a suit and tie, and the colours he wears are nothing but dull. At night, however…Mycroft Holmes likes to cut loose.

And…well…his favourite song to gear up to is…

 

♪  _Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy._

_Grab my glasses, I’m out the door, I’m gonna hit this city._

_Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack._

_‘Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back._ ♪ 

Mycroft moved away from the speakers, and a grin spread on his face as he slid over to his wardrobe, loosening his tie on the way. His feet stepped to the beat as he flung open the closet doors.

 

♪  _I’m talking pedicure on our toes, toes._

_Trying on all our clothes, clothes._

_Boys blowing up our phones, phones._ ♪ 

His head took to the beat and began to bob like a vulture with indigestion. Reaching into the back of the wardrobe, he pulled out one of his clubbing outfits and considered it briefly before shimmying over to the mirror.

 

♪  _Don’t stop, make it pop._

 _DJ, blow my speakers up._ ♪ 

Mycroft held the black long sleeve mesh shirt and skinny jeans up to him, still moving his body to the beat. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrow appreciatively. Throwing the clothes on his bed, he removed his suit jacket and tie and placed them down on a chair nearby.

 

♪  _Tick tock on the clock._

 _But the party don’t stop, no._ ♪ 

His body was amped up, and he kept dancing as he unbuttoned his dress shirt.

 

♪  _Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer._

 _Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here._ ♪ 

Mycroft slid his shirt off and put it with his other day clothes. His pants were off as the verse ended, and the skinny jeans in his hands as the next one began.

 

♪  _I’m talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk._

 _Boys tryin’ to touch my junk, junk._ ♪ 

Mycroft painstakingly worked the material up his legs and zipped his fly. Always a tight fit, but it was worth it…the back of his mind nagged about his diet…Maybe he’d forego the cake tonight…

 

♪  _Don’t stop, make it pop._

 _DJ, blow my speakers up._ ♪ 

He pushed the thought away as he let the beat make him jump again. Snagging the mesh shirt, he dragged it over his head, relishing the feeling, the lack of solidity, the top’s utter lack of sensibility.

 

♪  _Tick tock on the clock._

 _But the party don’t stop, no._ ♪ 

He glided back to the mirror and looked himself up and down. Smirking, he moved closer and tousled his hair a bit, making it fashionably untidy. Standing back once more, he admired his reflection, relishing how he resembled anything but put-together. He turned and looked over his shoulder at his backside, and his smirk grew larger.

 

♪  _DJ, you build me up._

_You break me down._

_My heart, it pounds._

_Yeah, you got me._ ♪ 

Stepping to his wardrobe again, he kneeled and opened a dark wooden box on the floor. Riffling through the box, he withdrew two black leather cuffs and stood before dancing back to the mirror and slipping them on.

 

♪  _With my hands up._

_Put your hands up._

_Put your hands up._ ♪ 

_Now the party don’t start ‘til I walk in_ , he mouthed.

He lifted his arms and spun, stopping again at the mirror to look at himself and strike a pose. Suddenly, he saw the door handle move and the door begin to open. His eyes widened as he heard a familiar voice.

“Mycroft, this is important. I couldn’t reach you.” Mycroft whirled around. “Sherlock won’t admit it, but-,” John stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment his voice would not come…then it did…in the form of uncontrollable laughter. John covered his mouth with a hand, trying to stop, but he couldn’t.

Thoughts quickly swarmed around Mycroft’s head _. I deal with public relations all the time, sensitive matters, I can handle this. I-I could have sworn I locked that door and-OH GOD the music is still going._  HE PANICKED.

“YOU CANNOT TELL SHERLOCK.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for doing these things to you, Mycroft...kind of...
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr [here](http://havetardiswilltimetravel.tumblr.com/post/15045919131/)


End file.
